Consider God’s promise. “They shall run, and not be weary.” We cannot forever live in these rare and luminous moments when all the world’s a song. The tempo must recede, for we cannot survive for too long the times of pure ecstasy. There is a variation which God provides, a variation comparable to the steady gladness of old lovers for whom the first ecstasies have passed. We are not expected to be forever in a kind of breathless, wide-eyed splendor. We cannot be on the wing always. But we are promised the power “to run and not be weary.” Sooner or later, we discover that the holiday has passed and that we must return to a slower pace, a quieter round of duties. We must return to the common duties, and how less exciting they can be. As much as we need ecstatic glories and radiant experiences, we need some power to hold us when life is not so exciting. I think the great heroes of any church and any community are not those whose names show in public print and who move from one exciting event to another, but those people, unsung and unheralded, who do the little-praised work in homes and schools and churches and neighborhoods. There comes a time, however, when weariness sets in, and even they need a power to keep them going. Praise God, there is.